


they were kids that i once knew

by tonberrys



Series: renascentia: between the lines [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Death Eaters, First War with Voldemort, Gen, Hogwarts, Hogwarts House Sorting, Marauders' Era, POV Regulus Black, POV Third Person, Pureblood Society, Regulus and Barty are Best Friends, Slytherin, Slytherins Being Slytherins, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Welcome to the Baby Death Eater Murder Club
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2018-12-30 23:15:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12119355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonberrys/pseuds/tonberrys
Summary: Fraternity, friendship, a brotherhood of the like-minded. Regulus had lost his brother to the lions, but amongst serpents, he would never be alone.Snippets of Regulus Black's school years, compliant with theRenascentia-verse.1972: The Sorting (1), Meeting Barty (2)1976: Snape's Worst Memory (4)1977: Acquiring 'Death Eater' Wands (5)1978: Death Eater Code Names (3)





	1. 1st September 1972: The Sorting

**Author's Note:**

> This is an ongoing series of snippets occurring throughout Regulus Black's childhood and adolescence, compliant with the _Renascentia_ series I'm writing with kuchikopi, but although certain events (such as Sirius running away) are fully detailed in other one-shots, this does not explicitly require knowledge of the full series to make sense. This particular mini-series specifically focuses a lot on Regulus's developing friendships with the other young pure-bloods/Death Eaters.
> 
> Because certain scenes may be written as they become relevant to the story in _Renascentia_ (which is an AU set during OotP), these snippets are going to be written out of order, to some degree. I might end up re-ordering them to list chronologically in the chapters for organization's sake, but I will label each chapter with the date and a content label to try and help with tracking, regardless of whether I do that. I apologize in advance if any confusion occurs!

_1st September 1972: The Sorting_

When Regulus had dreamt of his first glimpse of the grand castle of Hogwarts, he had not expected a constricting thread of dread to suffocate him so, splitting cracks in the comfortable certainty of a Black’s place in these ancient halls. (His brother, the Gryffindor-)

From the time he had woken that morning, he had not looked at Sirius even once.

A year ago, on this day, he would have done near anything to climb into a train compartment with his brother and speculate about the forthcoming adventures, but Regulus had sat with Narcissa on the Hogwarts Express, passing the hours in a blur of silent stares at the passing scenery and lost in the pages of the book he had brought along, only vaguely aware of her friends doting in a manner that would have been far more embarrassing if he had been paying much attention at all. The thrill was tainted, and all he could think about was how badly he wanted the following morning to come, wanted to wake up in a dungeon dorm swathed in green and silver. 

Narcissa had bought him a pumpkin pasty, told him he had nothing to worry about, that he would wear their colors well and set everything to rights again. He clutched the pasty for the remaining hour until at last the train slowed to stop, and he carefully wrapped it in his luggage without so much as a nibble (save for the small bit he fed to Canopus, his new owl, who was rather less anxious about it all.)

Cutting a shadow against the moonlit sky, the castle loomed ahead, a place of learning and legacy, a place that was going to teach him to be a great wizard. Crossing the dark waters ought to have felt like a grand adventure, but like a germaphobe in fear of contagion, his eyes had scanned the faces of his fellow first years, finding that only a handful were recognizable at all. Hogwarts would be full of faces he didn’t know, people he knew nothing about. They were the minority here, surrounded by mudbloods and their sympathizers, as his parents had emphasized all too thoroughly.

It was upon entering the Great Hall that Regulus felt the first true flutter in his chest. Silently he took in the overwhelming stretch of students beneath their vivid banners of their Houses, huddled pockets of green and red and blue and yellow, and he felt a small measure of relief that there were no more than a few first years in front of him.

There were more important reasons to feel delighted to be a Black, but he could think of no other time when he had felt quite so relieved to be so close to the beginning of the alphabet.

_Slytherin, please, Slytherin,_ ran the mantra in his head -- yet as the ill-mannered hat asked if he might like the high-flying House of wit and learning just as well, remarking that his brother seemed quite pleased with the change in pace, Regulus’s eyes found Sirius’s amongst a sea of red and gold, locking eyes for the first time that day. Beside Sirius was a bespeckled boy -- Potter -- muggle-loving, drawing Sirius further and further from his family and his responsibilities, like poison disguised as perfume. With a fresh wave of conviction, Regulus steeled against his nerves, tearing his eyes from his brother’s. His voice quiet and firm, when at last he spoke: “Slytherin.”

“SLYTHERIN!”

Roaring cheers erupted from the Slytherin table, filling the chilling silence with a welcome that wrapped around his shoulders like a warm blanket. It was then that Regulus let his eyes fall over the stretch of fellow serpents lining the table, far more familiar than not. He could not say what exactly his face was doing as he approached the table, but he felt a friendly shoulder squeeze from Rabastan Lestrange, saw an affectionate smile from Narcissa, and as he approached Evan Rosier and the group of boys huddled with him, the older boy scooted over to offer him a seat.

“I’ve been saving it for you,” Evan said with a grin.

Meeting Evan’s eyes, a smile cracked at the corners of his mouth for the first time that day. Like shedding skin, anxiety fell fast from his shoulders, and as he settled into his seat, Regulus Arcturus Black took his proper place in more ways that one.


	2. 2nd September 1972: Meeting Barty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Regulus Black meets Barty Crouch, Jr., and a beautiful, completely healthy and not at all sad friendship is born.

_2nd September 1972: Meeting Barty_

When Regulus awoke to cascading curtains of silver and green, he stared up at his canopy for a full five minutes before stirring, a peaceful smile on his face. Every anxiety from the day before had melted away in the night, and now his Hogwarts education was laid out before him - excitement, knowledge, and the sort of company that was suitable to share it with.

For the most part. Peeking up over his covers, his eyes scanned the other beds in the room, where his four dormmates still slept. He hadn’t recognized any of their faces and recognized only one of their surnames. He knew several of the girls in his year, but he couldn’t very well spend all of his time with the girls. (At least the second year Slytherin boys were familiar -- he recognized most of them from various social gatherings.)

He could not recall what names the half-bloods had rattled off the night before (at least he hoped they were half-bloods), but he did remember the blond boy in the bed to the left of his was a Crouch. Regulus did not know the Crouches, but they were traditionally pure-blood, listed among the Sacred 28 his mum and dad had instructed him to memorize some time ago. There was a Crouch on his family tree a few generations back, he thought -- Charis Black Crouch -- and wondered if they might be distantly related.

The sun had not fully risen when Regulus sat up in his bed, dressed himself in his new Hogwarts uniform and stashed a book in his bag for after breakfast. It was a Saturday, meaning they had a whole weekend to explore the castle and prepare for their classes before starting on Monday, and he was intent to do so. Never in his life had he seen anything so big; Sirius had not described the half of it. Regulus did not know where to start, and with a small pang, he wished he could ask his brother to show him around, but he didn’t even know how to find his brother in a place this massive. (Sirius was the best to explore with, but perhaps he could find Cissa at breakfast, or maybe Evan.)

As he was putting on his shoes, he noticed a stirring in the bed beside his - Crouch’s bed - and the boy sat up, disheveled from sleep and looking up at his bedhangings with something less than a smile.

Curiously, Regulus watched him until the boy noticed eyes upon him, jolting with a start.

“You’re a Crouch, right?” Regulus asked simply, dropping his feet to the floor again, though he remained sitting on the edge of his bed.

The boy seemed to be deciding what the question was actually asking, for a fleeting moment, but soon settled for a nod. “Bartemius Crouch, Jr. I go by Barty.”

“Regulus Black,” he offered in return, and though brief introductions had been made the night before, Regulus made a wholly conscious effort to remember this particular person - Barty. “Are you pure-blood?”

Barty stared at him for a second before the solemn expression on his face cracked into a quiet snort of a laugh. “That was blunt. I am. Are you?”

Regulus flushed, slightly, and stared back.

“I’m just kidding. I know the Blacks are pure-blood,” Barty said with a slightly uncomfortable laugh. “Or I can at least guess that a Black who would ask that probably is.”

“I hope didn’t offend you,” Regulus said, and meant it, too. “I guess I’m just not used to not knowing.”

“You didn’t,” Barty said, criss-crossing his legs on the bed and shifting to face Regulus head-on. “I don’t really know anyone very well yet.”

“I’ll introduce you to some of the second years at breakfast. And my cousin Narcissa is a seventh year. She’s in Slytherin, too,” Regulus said, his voice lifting as a small smile formed.

Barty frowned, mouth tensing just a little, and again his eyes lifted to the silver and green hangings above. “I don’t think my father will like that I’m in Slytherin,” he said, with a tightness to his voice, “He says there are a lot of bad people that come out of here.”

Regulus crinkled his face, shaking his head with a dismissive air. “He just doesn’t know the right Slytherins. It’s a great House, full of people who do great things. My entire family has been in Slytherin for _generations_ ,” he said emphatically, hesitating for a beat as he thought of Sirius, surrounded by Gryffindor red and gold. “...Except for my brother. But that was a mistake,” he muttered a little too quickly. “But no matter. I’m about to go to breakfast, if you want to come. I thought it might be interesting to explore the castle a little bit, after.”

Subtly, a smile grew wide on Barty’s face, some measure of irritation fading as he swiped straw-blond fringe from his eyes. “I’d like that.”

A little thrill swelled in Regulus’s chest as he sat up a straighter, grey eyes brightening. “Slytherin will be great, you’ll see.”

Barty’s smile grew more confident as he dropped his feet to the floor. “ _We’re_ going to be great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recognize that the Wiki states Barty's birth year to be 1962, which would technically place him a year below Regulus, but because the source for that number is Sirius's offhand remark about Barty vaguely looking a particular age (and that, within our series, at least, Sirius paid very little attention to his brother's friends for reference), I'm not taking the '62 number as hard canon so much an implied derivation from canon.


	3. 16th July 1978: Code Names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our crew of newly Marked Death Eaters celebrate their new tattoos and come up with aliases to use whilst in Death Eater garb.

_16th July 1978: Code Names_

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Mulciber said with a wicked grin.

“Shut up, Mulciber. They all look the same,” Avery shot back with a snort, pelting a shoe at his head from across the sitting room, which connected with a solid thunk.

“You sound like a man with Mark-envy. I’m pretty sure mine is bigger,” Mulciber said, pulling up his sleeve and looking at the faint red outline branded to the soft inner skin of his left forearm.

Avery threw his other shoe, remarking that he had no such ‘envy.’ Rolling his eyes with a put upon sigh, Regulus shook his head and glanced beside him to Barty, who was sitting cross-legged at the short table before them and focused wholly on a piece of parchment placed on its surface. Silently Regulus lifted his brow, watching as Barty sketched something like an oval, two dark dots within-

“I’m designing my mask markings,” Barty stated after a moment, doodling something of a nose and lifting his eyes.

Regulus met his look with a smile, then returned his attention to the sketch. “Hand me a quill and parchment. I want to design one too.”

“I want a giant pair of-”

“It isn’t funny anymore, Mulciber,” Snape cut in dully.

“-quaffles on mine.”

“You are going to get uninvited to this gathering,” Wilkes said, clapping a hand on Mulciber’s shoulder as Avery’s nose flared.

“It’s my house!” Mulciber objected, though his voice remained playfully sharp as he shook off the pat and rested his arm on the back of the sofa. “But fine, Avery, you can have the quaffles, seeing as you were a chaser and all. Regulus can put a-”

“If you make a snitch joke, I swear I am going to kill you,” Regulus snipped dryly without looking up from his parchment.

“I was going to say a crown. Our little king.”

“We need aliases,” Wilkes said, looking to Evan -- the last member of their little gathering, and thus far the most quiet. “What do you think, Evan? We’ll be able to recognize each other, now that we’re kissing those blank initiate masks goodbye and getting to personalize, but we can’t exactly use our names out there.”

“What about-”

“Who votes that Mulciber does not get to make any suggestions?” Snape said coolly, and the remaining boys -- Mulciber aside -- raised their hands in turn.

“It’s settled, then,” Evan said, though he shot an amused look to their silenced friend. “Aliases. Any ideas?”

“There should definitely be a theme.” Wilkes leaned against the arm of his chair. “Like really ferocious magical creatures. Quidditch positions are way too risky, considering some of us actually played. Or maybe...”

“What about chess?” Regulus suggested, tearing his attention from the parchment situated on the short table in front of him. “There aren’t quite enough pieces for all of us, but there are two colors to work with.”

“Chess. I like it,” Evan granted with an approving smile, “Great idea, Regulus.”

Silently, Regulus preened and began darkening a line along the edge of his mask.

“Regulus can be the King. Because he’s the little king,” Mulciber repeated again, plopping on the floor between Regulus and Barty, draping his arms across their shoulders. Regulus squirmed out from under the drape, swatting him back but offering a verbal admission that he could accept that appointment. “And Crouch can be the Queen,” Mulciber added with a smirk.

“I know you’re just baiting us right now, but the Queen is the most powerful piece in the game,” Barty said, twisting to shove the heel of his hand forcibly to Mulciber’s chest, knocking him off balance and into a tumble backwards. “So I accept.”

“See? These young students think I have great ideas,” Mulciber said, pointing a finger straight at Avery.

“I’m a legal adult, and Regulus’s birthday is in a little less than a week,” Barty remarked in defense; with lofty pride, he added, “And students or not, I bet we could spellcast circles around you, seeing as we’re learning from Bellatrix Lestrange.”

“Let’s stay focused,” Evan interrupted before Mulciber could take the bait. “I would like to be a Knight.”

“Can I be a Knight too?” Wilkes asked, and Evan nodded with a growing grin. “I’ll be the Black Knight, and you be the White Knight?”

“Deal.”

“I’ll be the Rook,” Avery jumped in, excitement buzzing in the room as they all sat up a little taller. “Zipping around in my castle.”

“That leaves me with Bishop, and Snape can be the Pawn!” Mulciber said with a smirk as Snape glowered in return.

“We are not going to make Snape be a Pawn,” Evan chided. (From the floor, Mulciber started to say that he was kidding, but it was the only piece left anyway, so what did they-) Evan ignored the remark, seeming to think for a moment before speaking again, meeting Snape’s eyes levelly, “You can be Checkmate.”

From on the floor, a smile tugged on the corner of Regulus’s lips, though he directed his attention back to the parchment the moment the suggestions turned away from his own. Carefully, he sketched the light, framing lines of something akin to weaving flames, though it was hard to say what the final version would look like. His own mask was narrower, smaller-featured around the mouth and nose -- he wondered what it would be like, donning such masks when at last they were included in the fray, finally set apart from the initiates and included in the _important_ things. For a year now, they had all trained under their respective mentors, had passed the trials set before them at the summer’s start and thus earned their place among the elevated -- those with legacies, those with exceptional talent...those with _worth_ in the eyes of the Dark Lord.

Those who would do what needed to be done.

A small chill tickled his neck as the light-sketched flames on his parchment seemed to flicker to life for a moment, heat and char and the smell of burning flesh creeping unbidden in his mind before he hastily smothered the thought. Perhaps his glorified task of Death Eater exaltation ought to fill him with more delight, especially when surrounded by his friends and the thrill of the new adventure before them all, but he could not shake that sick feeling roiling in his stomach when he thought of that night. (A witch and wizard, dead, lost in the blaze.)

Regulus had not clipped that story to the board in his room.

Pressing his lips to a line, a measure of distance settled in his eyes as he curled another ember along the jawline.

“-gulus! Come on, the house-elf made us sandwiches,” Evan was saying, tapping a finger on the picture of his mask and breaking the younger boy’s concentration. “And you too, Barty. Your parchment isn’t running off anywhere.”

“Right-” Regulus started, setting his quill atop the drawing and pushing it a few inches away, funnelling his thoughts back into the present. Barty had already stood, was waiting with a carefree expression for his friend to join him.

So Regulus stood, and together, the boys ate their sandwiches.


	4. 17th June 1976: Snape’s Worst Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Regulus and Snape have a brief chat, following "Snape's Worst Memory."

_17th June 1976: Snape’s Worst Memory_

“Potter is a twat.” Regulus sat down on the Slytherin common room sofa, setting his bag down in his lap to pull out his potions textbook. Uncomfortable though it was, he spared a look at the slumped and seething form of Severus Snape, who was pouring over his own. Regulus thought it was a bit strange, considering everyone knew Snape was the one to go to if you needed a potions genius: He would have thought Snape had the whole book memorised already, but perhaps he just wanted to dwell on that strength, following the humiliation still dangling in the air from earlier that afternoon. (Perhaps dangling was a cruel way to phrase it, and yet…)

“Your brother is no better,” Snape responded scathingly. 

Regulus crinkled his nose. He thought they were past this by now, but it seemed Snape was in a particularly sour mood. “Sirius is also a twat,” he agreed emphatically, “Though I would posit that Potter brings out the worst in him.” Snape shot a withering glance, and Regulus shifted uncomfortably, lifting his chin. “But the point stands that the whole group of them are detestable. Evan was saying that Mulciber already has a plan of retaliation brewing. We’ll get him back.” A pause, and a correction. “We’ll get them all back. If you have any special requests, I’m sure Mulciber will be delighted to hear them.”

“I don’t require anyone’s pity,” Snape countered darkly, eyes training on the handwritten notes scribbled into his textbook, thumb brushing a particularly feminine-looking scrawl.

Expression pinching, Regulus prepared to counter a flicker of annoyance -- but before the words passed his lips, he reminded himself firmly that Snape had just been publicly tormented by Potter of all people, and if ever there was a time to allow sharp remarks to pass, it was now. 

“Pity? It’s not pity,” Regulus said, lifting his eyebrows with a soft snort. “Honestly, I think Mulciber already had this planned from the start, and he’s just bringing it up now to look like a supportive friend.”

Again, Snape lifted his eyes to scowl at Regulus, though it was more put upon than angry. “What do you want, Black?”

Of everyone he knew, Snape was the only one who made ‘Black’ feel like an insult, but again, Regulus bit his tongue -- this time, a little more loosely. “I’m trying to draw upon our shared hatred for James Potter and channel it to something productive. If you would rather sit here and stare at a page that everyone knows you’ve already memorised while Potter and my brother and their stupid friends cackle about it, then I suppose I can leave you to it.” Leaning back into the sofa, Regulus pressed his lips to a firm line.

Snape’s mouth twisted, and Regulus felt a subtle twinge of guilt for the harsh phrasing. So much for commiserating. Normally, tearing into Potter was enough to cheer Snape up at least a little bit, but perhaps a shift in tactics was necessary. Awkwardly, he set his bag aside and held up the potions textbook he had pulled out a moment before. With a sigh, he added, “Alternately, if you are more interested in discussing potions, I was wondering if you would be willing to read through my essay on the properties of moonstone and its usage. It’s the last one of the year, and I want to leave a good impression.”

For a moment, Snape stared at him. Regulus could not say if it was an analysis of his sincerity or the masking of some internal frustration (though Regulus had never known Severus Snape to hide his frustrations), but in the end, the older boy shook his head and held out a hand.

“Give me the essay,” Snape drawled sourly.

After handing it over -- pulled from where he had folded the parchment inside his textbook -- Regulus again settled back into the sofa. In truth, he was not particularly concerned about the quality of his essay. As always, he had researched the topic thoroughly, and Professor Slughorn had never been anything short of complimentary about his work. However, he hated to see Snape so visibly upset from Potter’s cruel ‘joke,’ and clumsy though the gesture felt, he wanted to ease at least some of that anguish, or embarrassment, or whatever it was that his friend was feeling. There was no one in the entirety of existence who Regulus hated more than James Potter, but even so, he thought Snape probably had him beat, at least today. He and Snape might not be the closest within their immediate social group, but the pricking air of suffering dug beneath Regulus’s skin, nonetheless, and he could not let it lie.

A few minutes passed in patient silence before Snape looked up again, holding out the parchment for Regulus to accept. “Overall, a technically competent piece, and you have organised your topics well. However, you might want to mention the less common use of boiled moonstone in crystallising potions.”

Lifting his eyebrows, Regulus took the essay back. He hadn’t expected to miss anything, with how thoroughly he had scoured the available texts, but if anyone would catch something like that, he supposed this was the person. Perhaps it was possible that Snape was making it up to get him to go away, but he was wearing the sincere sort of face Regulus associated with speaking legitimately on the subject, so Regulus supposed it might be an actual point.

“I haven’t heard of it being used in that way,” Regulus responded, folding the essay again and slipping it back into his potions textbook, which was in turn tucked into his bag. With genuine curiosity, he added, “Where did you learn that?”

“ _Transformative Potions_. It is one of my own personal texts,” Snape responded, and stormy though he remained, something in his mood seemed to shift, ever so subtly. “The contents are more complex and advanced than anything you have experienced in your fourth year assignments, but I am willing to lend it to you until the end of the term, if you are interested.”

“I am, actually,” Regulus responded with a nod, relaxing slightly at the shift in tone. “I would like to read up on it prior to including it in my essay, but it sounds like a fascinating read, even beyond the moonstone.” Lifting his eyebrows, he added, “You really are impressive, and I don’t say that lightly.”

For a moment, Snape seemed to be debating whether it was much of a compliment, coming from a younger student, and a friend at that, but in the end, he seemed to decide it was. “You are too, Regulus,” he granted.

Regulus staved off the pleased expression trying to claw its way onto his face. Instead, he situated the strap of his bookbag back on his shoulder and prepared to thank Snape for the assistance when again his friend spoke up.

“You said Mulciber and the others are planning a retaliation?”

With a nod, Regulus stood and took a small step back as Snape stood in turn. “Up in your dorm, I believe. Barty and I were in there with them earlier, but I don’t know how much further along they are now.”

A hardened expression settled on Snape’s face. “Let’s go find out.”


	5. 3rd August 1977: Acquiring 'Death Eater' Wands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Regulus and Barty acquire backup wands to use for Death Eating.

“I wonder if I should get one too,” Barty was saying as he and Regulus cut through the summer bustle in Diagon Alley. The school rush had yet to start - letters were running on the later side this year - but even without throngs of students scuffling for prized items or inflating the lines, Diagon Alley was never hurting for business. “I would have to find a place my father couldn't find it, of course. I don't think he's snooping through my things yet, but I would not put it past him.”

“Your father is foul,” Regulus agreed, scrunching his nose, as if the stench of overblown ‘justice’ had reached across all distances to assault him. “Even so, I don't think it's a terrible idea. Perhaps you could even transfigure it with your other wand to look like something else, or place a charm to mask it. Sometimes hiding in plain sight is safer than the best-planned hideaway.”

Barty granted him a crooked smile. “Well said. I've never transfigured a wand before. I wonder if it would affect the composition.”

“I'm not sure,” Regulus admitted with a shrug. “Worst case scenario, Ollivander will think you are the most absent-minded young man in all of Britain, ‘losing’ your replacement wand within twenty-four hours.”

“Perhaps I can change my story to quirky wand collector,” Barty said, bumping their shoulders with a little grin. “It's not too late.”

“Quirky, indeed,” Regulus said with a soft snort.

“I don't judge your hobbies.” 

Coming upon the shop, Regulus pulled open the door and strolled inside, greeted with the clear ding of a bell as Barty came up behind him, allowing the door to shut quite unceremoniously behind them.

The soft sound of shuffling met them in turn, and soon enough, Ollivander had popped into sight, peering first at Regulus from around a tower of long, thin boxes. “Walnut with a unicorn hair core, eleven and a half inches and pliant flexibility,” the old man said in a soft, merry tone, as if greeting Regulus by name. To Barty, he turned with only a brief pause, “And you, as I recall - ebony, dragon heartstring, twelve inches, solid. Is that right?” There was no question in his voice. Approaching, he looked been them with his pale stare. “How can I help you, boys?”

Exchanging a look with his friend, Regulus felt a little wave of discomfort at Ollivander’s unsettling recitation of the wands they had been matched with years before amidst a flood of other Hogwarts children. A little strange, perhaps, to have one's identity boiled down to a wand, but he supposed Ollivander was the best in the business for a reason. The chances of anyone hunting down the wandmaker and inquiring about his wand (or wands) was slim enough that the benefit far outweighed the risk, and if he was going to be dedicating his holidays to the aggressive pursuit of dark magic from here on, then it was best to take precautions. With luck, they would not look too much alike (nor too dissimilar).

“I've lost my wand, so I've come to be matched with another,” Regulus lied, and for a moment, he thought the look in Ollivander's eyes was bordering on crestfallen, followed in quick succession by a sharp, analytical stare.

“Me too,” Barty said, and Ollivander shot them both a puzzled look. “We were flying along the coast on holiday and must have lost them from our pockets.”

“You must take care with your wands,” Ollivander said in a chiding but not unfriendly tone, “Let us find you new ones, then. You first, young man,” he said to Regulus, waving him closer to the precariously stacked wand towers, stretching up to the high ceilings above. Regulus thought they looked as though they would topple at any moment, but Ollivander appeared as concerned as he had five years prior, which was to say not at all. “Walnut finds its ideal match in a sharp mind, and yours took to you well, as I recall. This one is a bit long, with a dragon heartstring instead, but give it a try.”

Regulus accepted the wand, noting its more craggy appearance, compared to his own wand’s smooth surface. Otherwise, he felt nothing of note. The wand was in his hand for no more than a few seconds before Ollivander shook his head. 

“No, no, that won't do… Let’s try elm with a unicorn hair core, quite supple…”

Regulus felt a little rush of nostalgia rise, remembering when he had stood in this shop as an eleven-year-old child, full of a sickening mix of excitement and anxiety - excitement for the start of his formal education and the adventure of his distant school, but anxious with the uncertainty of whether his sorting would be as much of a disaster as his brother's had been the year before. That initial pairing process had been far from the first time he'd held a wand - his home had quite a few family wands left behind as heirlooms of a sort, and he and-… he had memories of swishing them long before he was meant to. Even so, there was a certain thrill, seeing which wand would pick _you_.

Several more wands were presented and rapidly rejected before at last before Regulus felt the familiar tingle of warmth creep along the wood, and with a subtle swish, the red and gold sparks of approval shot forth. 

“Holly and phoenix feather - an uncommon combination!” Ollivander noted in the sort of tone that suggested that he quite liked uncommon combinations. “But the wand knows best. Take care of this one,” he instructed sternly before turning his attention to Barty, moving quite predictably through the same ritual. 

Taking a moment to examine his prize, Regulus noted that the wood was a touch lighter than his walnut wand, its grip a little less intricate in design, but the polished surface was just as smooth, the length very similar - and when he gave it a gentle bend, it was, in fact, springy, just as Ollivander had said upon handing it to him just a moment before. Fond as he was of the bonded wand lying on his desk at home, Regulus could not help the tiny smile pulling at his lips. He knew he ought to practice with it before taking it into his training sessions with Bella, lest it give him trouble, but it would not be so taxing when Barty would have need to do the same.

In the end, Barty was matched with a hornbeam wand with a dragon heartstring core ( _twelve and a half inches, unyielding_ ), and when at last they were stepping back it into the warm, beating sun, Barty gave it another flick, smiling to himself as he, too, gave the new wand a once over.

“Brilliant,” Barty concluded. “Let's get lunch, then test them out properly.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Regulus said, sticking his new holly wand in the pocket of his robes. “And this is best kept between us, yes? To avoid a suspicious influx of lost wands?”

Barty flashed a grin, his eyes bright. “My thoughts exactly.”


End file.
